


This Thing

by geckoed



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoed/pseuds/geckoed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't talk about it - this thing but that doesn't make it go away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Thing

They have this thing where they pretend like they don’t matter to each other – that they aren’t the most important people in their lives. It was fine when they were fighting all the time, convinced that they hated each other. The one off moment of kindness or respect never seemed to cause any blips on their radar. 

(Derek quit his job for her. 

Casey threatened to beat up a football player for him.) 

It was a thing they did. Easy to brush off because if you live with someone long enough then things like this might happen. You might actually start to care. 

(Neither is willing to admit it, of course.)

***

(But then they aren’t living together and it keeps happening and it doesn’t seem weird at all.) 

***

They’re at Queen’s, living in different dorms, but somehow managing to stay most nights together. 

Either she falls asleep trying to study in his living room (her roommate is loud and she can’t focus, he tucks a blanket around her and brushes the hair from her face) or he’s crashing at her place after a long night of partying (he’s drunk and she’s kind enough to carry him back to her place, giving him an Advil and a glass of water before he passes out).

They don’t talk about it. What’s there to talk about? Why would they stop leaning on each other - that one person that has always been there? 

***

(When did he become so dependent on her? When did she become so dependent on him?

They really don’t talk about it.)

***

They graduate and find a cheap condo to share. They’re both broke and the thought of going back to London is horrifying. 

She gets a job waiting tables and he’s teaching hockey to a bunch of bratty teenagers. 

They’re happy. 

At least, he’s happy. Really happy. 

Then she brings home Andrew and he’s nice. He’s got a job and a cat. He likes poetry and black-and-white films. He talks sports and cinematography with Derek. He watches her practice the dance routines that Derek thought she’d given up. 

(“I told you, Derek, I don’t have time for dancing anymore – between work and taking care of your sorry ass, I am totally booked. It’s fine. I don’t even miss it.”)

They drink wine on Sunday afternoons while reading the newspaper. They whisper over play reviews and she has this sweet little smile on her face that he doesn’t recognize. 

And it hits him. 

Hard. 

***

(Yes, he knows how dense he can be sometimes but that’s not the moral of the story right now.)

***

She moves out and he lets her go. Andrew makes her happy. 

(It’s one of those moments except now he can see if for what it is. 

Casey sang his song for Sally. 

Derek gave Truman the plan to win her back.)

***

(He moves out too – the condo is too big without her hogging the couch or yelling at him about his dirty boxers.)

***

They still talk. They have lunch together. But it’s not the same. 

(And to be honest – he is sick of hearing about Andrew.

He meets someone. A couple of some ones, actually, but they never stick. Not long enough for him to introduce them to Casey at least.)

***

It’s midnight when someone bangs on his door. He grabs the baseball bat next to his bed and stumbles out of his bedroom, opens it without thinking. She’s in his arms in a second and there are tears and for the first time he’s not totally panicked by a crying female. 

(Sure, she’s cried in front of him before but he used to be really good at making her so angry that she forgot to cry. He’s lost his touch.)

“Andrew left,” she says and he tries to ignore the pounding in his chest or the way he wants to leap for joy. 

“He’s an ass.”

“He left because I was too wrapped up in you.”

His heart stops beating. 

***

(They’ve always been the most important person to each other. 

Casey helped him graduate. 

Derek took her to prom.)

***

"Casey," Derek whispers, pushes her hair away from her face. 

She kisses him. 

(Has kissing always felt like this? This jolt to the bottom of his feet like lightening running through him.) 

He kisses her back, wraps a hand around her neck, and holds her to him. His grip is crushing but she just pushes into him. 

(They’ve always held on too tight.)

He grips her hips, pulling her closer to him. She moans, pulls away. His bottom lip caught in her teeth before she let’s go with a pop. 

She moves down his jaw, nibbling and kissing. He throws his head back, giving her plenty of access to his neck. He’s going to wake up in about two seconds. He’ll be in bed, sweaty and gross with a throbbing hard on.

(This thing that they never talk about is finally happening after four years of high school and four years of university and two years of just waiting for her and only her. Derek has never been patient but he waited for her.) 

He slides his hands under her shirt, soft skin under calloused fingers. 

(Of course she’s soft. All of those flowery lotions that clogged up his nostrils so that all he could think about was Casey, Casey, Casey.) 

He scrapes his nails down her back when she bites the sweet spot right above his pulse point.

"Case," he groans. Grabs the back of her head and pulls her towards him. He devours her mouth. 

(It’s the only way he knows how to handle Casey. Devouring her, eating her alive, trying to dominate her when really she’s been in control the whole time.)

They don’t make it to the bedroom. They barely make it to the couch. 

She tips over the armrest, lying down with wide eyes and puffy lips. She grabs the bottom of her blouse and wiggles out of it, tossing it to the side. Derek watches in awe as her bra follows. 

(He thanks every deity he can think of that it’s hot tonight and he’s in nothing more than boxers and his ratty robe, barely tied shut. His hands are shaking so badly he doesn’t think he could handle real clothes right now.)

She crawls forward, breasts hanging low and a nervous tick in her eye. She shoves off his robe, presses her face to his chest and slides her hands to the waistband of his boxers. Her breasts are pressed against him, hot and soft and heart pounding through the layers of muscle and skin. 

He leans over the armrest, pushing her back – grabbing her face and kissing her again and again and again. 

(Kissing was never like this. Never.)

She moans into his mouth and scoots back, pulling him along with her. He barely makes it over the armrest in one piece but she manages to keep her mouth locked onto his. 

Her hands scramble with her pants. A panicked giggle slips into their kiss until she’s sliding her hips up and out. He presses against her, feeling the way her bare body molded to his. Her hands slide over his hips before gripping his cock. He pulls his mouth away from hers to groan in her ear, "Fuck."

He's pretty sure that he’s ascending to a higher plane of existence the second her warm little hand started moving up and down. 

"Derek, condom," she whispers. Her voice was husky and deeper than he had ever heard it. 

Desperately, he sifts through his side table drawer until he feels the familiar crinkle of a condom in his fingers. He presses a kiss to her mouth before she can say anything, moves down her shoulder. Bites a little too hard when she takes it from him, ripping open the package with her teeth. 

Derek's eyes squeeze shut when he slides in. If he thought her hands were a different plane of existence then this was something much better and bigger and he would think of the word later when he wasn't balls deep inside Casey fucking McDonald. 

"Oh my god, Derek," she whines in his ear. She wraps her legs around his thighs and clamps down. He barely moves but that little bit of pressure is just right for her. 

Her nails dig into his shoulders and she continues to whimper and moan in his ear. Derek pants onto her shoulder, licking the sweaty salt from her skin. 

He pulls away from her shoulder and grabs the back of her head, makes her look at him with lust hazed eyes. 

"Der-ek," she groans, throws her head back, and squeezes her eyes shut. He licks the column of her throat and chokes on her name. 

***

They have this thing where they are the most important person in the world to each other. They don’t talk about it. They don’t have to. It’s a known fact and they’ve come to terms with that.

(They get another condo – this time with a balcony. They drink beer out there on warm summer nights and talk about their days.)

She’s dancing again, teaches lessons at a studio down the street. He’s working for a small film company, gets coffee and reads scripts all day.

They’re happy. 

Really, really happy.

(They still fight. He’s still a slob and she’s still a nagger.

They’re in the middle of a fight when he proposes. She says no – at least until he asks her properly. He laughs and kisses her.

This is what they do.

It’s their thing.)


End file.
